Although my stomach skitters with nerves, I need to see her now. Ask her face to face if she knows where Marie is. She was so cagey on the phone.

The street stinks of blocked drains. Even with my gloves on I am reluctant to touch Mum’s gate, which is flaked with paint and rust. Her front garden is a mess. The scant flowers pushing their way through the choking tangle of weeds hang their heads in shame. A far cry from the days Mum had a gardener. As I think of our old garden my anxiety rises as I remember that day.

The excited barks of Bruno as Marie and I tossed the ball. Afterwards our beloved pet had been found roaming the streets but we didn’t take him back and often I wonder whether he found a new family. Whether he was happy.

I am still lost in memories when I hear Mum’s voice behind me.

‘What are you doing here?’ No hello. No how are you? But it’s a shock, I know. I’m sure she’s been steeling herself for my usual anniversary phone calls, not a visit.

‘Let me.’ I reach for one of the laden bags she is carrying but she twists it away from me and waits for me to speak. She isn’t about to invite me in then.

‘Steak?’ I spot two pieces of rump nestled on top of a bag of leafy salad. ‘You must be doing okay?’ My parents used to eat steak every Saturday night. No matter how I feel about her, I am glad she can afford to treat herself.

‘I need to get this lot in the fridge. Did you want something?’ she asks as though I am just passing, despite knowing I both live and work over twenty miles away. Momentarily I am lost for words. I’d at least have expected her to ask how her only grandchild is but then I remind myself Mum is not a typical grandmother. There is no knitting of terrible jumpers and baking of calorie-laden cakes slabbed together with jam and buttercream. If I’m being kind, I can put it down to the fact she’s frightened to love again. Frightened to properly feel. I can’t imagine how terrified she must have been with her children missing but still, rationalizing her reluctance to get to know Archie, understanding it, doesn’t make it any easier to bear. Sorrow expands in my throat.

‘I’m worried about Marie. Do you know where she is? Please tell me if you do.’

‘I told you, I don’t know where she is.’ She looks me directly in the eye and it is me who shifts uncomfortably.

‘Is there anyone you can think of who might?’

Mum shakes her head. Her hair is dark brown and shiny – she’s covered up her grey. Being kind to herself – I wish I could do the same. Her shoulders are sagging under the weight of the shopping. She glances at her door and I know she’s eager to be inside. To get away from this conversation that is both awkward and painful. A stark reminder of how separated our family has become.